


Merely Players

by jessalae



Category: Community
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 05:36:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessalae/pseuds/jessalae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So… we’re doing a retelling of a re-imagining of a story that Shakespeare probably stole anyway?” “That’s the way media works, Troy. It’s a collaborative process.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merely Players

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "roleplay" square on my card for round four of kink bingo; originally posted on my Dreamwidth September 29, 2011. Most of the dialogue in this fic is either copied or adapted from _Shakespeare In Love_.

“Tell me how you love her, Will.”

 

(“Hey, Troy,” Abed had said. “How would you feel about reenacting a good movie for a change?”

“What do you mean, ‘good’ movie?”

“Something critically acclaimed. Maybe something with a bit more poetry to it.”

“All right, I’m game.”

“Excellent.”)

 

“Like a sickness and its cure together,” Troy says.

Abed bites his lip, trailing his hand in the imaginary water outside their cardboard rowboat. “Like rain and sun… cold and heat.” He swallows hard. “Is your lady beautiful?”

Troy quirks an eyebrow at him, and Abed backpedals hastily. “Since I came here from the country I have not seen her close. Tell me, is… is she beautiful?”

“Thomas, if I could write on the beauty of her eyes…” Troy sighs. “I was born to look in them and know myself.”

 

(“So… we’re doing a retelling of a re-imagining of a story that Shakespeare probably stole anyway?”

“That’s the way media works, Troy. It’s a collaborative process.”)

 

“And her lips?” Abed prompts.

“Her lips?” Troy shakes his head. “The early morning rose would wither on the branch if it could feel envy.”

“And her voice, her lark’s song?” Abed’s voice has a distinct quiver in it, one that’s just the tiniest bit too authentic. Troy’s heartbeat speeds up.

“Deeper, and softer,” he says. “None of your twittering larks. I’d banish nightingales from my garden before they’d interrupt her song.”

 

(“So are you comfortable shooting something this romantic?”

Troy had shrugged. “I mean, sure, whatever. We’re dating anyway, it’s not like we’ll be doing anything we haven’t done already.”

“Right.”

“We’ll just be pretending to be other people while we do it.”

“Right.”

“Are you blushing?”

“Am I?”)

 

“Ah, she sings, too?” Abed raises his eyebrows.

“Constantly, without a doubt. And plays the lute — she has a natural ear.” Troy leans in close, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “And her bosom. Did I mention her bosom?”

“What of her bosom?” Abed says.

“Oh, Thomas—“ Troy makes grabbing motions with his hands— “A pair of pippins as round and rare as golden apples.”

Abed’s eyes flicker down Troy’s body, then back up to his face. He licks his lips. “I think the lady is wise to keep your love at a distance, for what lady could live up to it, close to, when her eyes and lips and voice may be no more beautiful than mine?” he says, indignant. “Besides, can a lady of wealth and noble marriage live happily with a bank-side poet and player?”

“Yes, by god!” Troy grabs the sides of the boat emphatically. “Love knows nothing of rank or riverbank. It will spark between a queen and the poor vagabond who plays the king. And their love should be minded by each, for love denied blights the soul we owe to God. So tell my lady William Shakespeare waits for her in the garden!”

Abed’s breathing is noticeably labored. “But what of Lord Wessex?” he manages to ask.

Troy shakes his head, leaning in intently. “For one kiss, I would defy a thousand Wessexes.”

Abed surges forward and kisses him, hard and sweet and full of barely-restrained passion. Troy is willing to let the kiss continue for as long as possible, but Abed pulls away after a few seconds, looking horrified with himself.

“Oh, Will,” he says, and jumps out of the boat, running out of the shot and over to turn the camera off. Troy hops out of the boat, expecting Abed to quickly reposition the camera and go right into their blocking for the next scene. Instead, Abed crosses the room in two long strides and grabs Troy by the shoulders. His lips are hot against Troy’s, insistent, and Troy’s a little confused that Abed’s breaking character but certainly isn’t complaining. He pulls off the short brown wig Abed was wearing and twines his fingers through Abed’s hair. Abed gasps and leans further into the kiss, his body somehow fitting itself against Troy’s until every inch of them is touching, albeit through far too many clothes. Troy is about to start working on that problem when Abed whispers against his mouth, “Can you love a player?”

That’s when Troy realizes that Abed never broke character at all, that this is still part of the scene. He freezes for a few seconds, and Abed tenses like he’s about to pull away. Troy grabs the back of Abed’s neck, holding him in place, and makes a split-second decision.

“Can you love a fool?” he asks, and the tension goes out of Abed’s forehead. He melts against Troy, kissing him with renewed fervor, and Troy thinks he really was a fool to hesitate so long — yeah, they’re still playing parts, but it’s a reimagining of a reimagining, the Troy-and-Abed version of the Tom Stoppard version of Shakespeare’s most famous love story, and they’re going to make it their own. He reaches down and unfastens the hooks on the front of Abed’s doublet, pushes it off his shoulders, unlaces the full-sleeved shirt underneath. Abed has gone to work on Troy’s costume as well, and somehow between the two of them they manage to get out of most of their clothing. (“I don’t know how to undress an Elizabethan man,” Troy grumbles; “It is strange to me too,” Abed returns, laughing.) Troy untucks the end of the ace bandage wrapped around Abed’s chest, unwrapping each layer to reveal inch after inch of gorgeous smooth skin. His hands run along Abed’s ribs, smooth over his chest, fingers briefly catching on a nipple, making Abed whimper. Troy smiles and kisses him again, nudging him gradually back towards the bed.

They don’t really fall onto the mattress — it’s more like a controlled glide. Troy rolls them over until he’s on top, his whole body pressed against Abed’s. He strokes Abed’s cheek, the side of his neck, his chest, his stomach, until he finally reaches Abed’s cock, already hard and hot against Troy’s thigh. Abed gasps, arching his back sinuously, and spreads his legs. Troy reaches for the lube he tucked under his pillow, managing to get a good amount on his fingers without ruining the moment. He presses his finger into Abed slowly, gently, even though they’ve done this plenty of times before; Abed bites his lip and Troy kisses the frown lines that appear on his forehead.

“You’re still a maid,” he murmurs, and Abed shudders, nodding. Troy adds another finger, opening Abed up as carefully as he had the first time they had sex. He’s had much more practice now, though, and his fingers automatically find the angles and fall into the rhythms that will make Abed moan. Finally Troy feels like he’s done enough, or possibly like he just can’t hold out any longer, and grabs a condom from under his pillow. He rolls it on, shifts himself into position then pauses. Abed watches him with wide eyes, mouth slightly open, lips dark from kissing.

“Perhaps you are as mistook in me as I was in Thomas Kent,” Troy says, holding himself just above Abed, a nervous frown creasing his forehead.

Abed wraps a hand around the back of Troy’s neck, stares deep into his eyes. “Are you the author of the plays of William Shakespeare?”

Troy doesn’t move, matching the intensity of Abed’s gaze. “I am.”

“Then kiss me again, for I am not mistook.” Abed grabs Troy’s hips and pulls, urging Troy inside him. Troy shudders and captures Abed’s mouth, tasting the curve of his lips. Abed kisses back with fervor, lifts his hips to give Troy a better angle, and the rest of the moment seems to fade away, leaving nothing but the two of them and the faint memory of a soundtrack soaring in Troy’s head. 

It’s slow, their lovemaking, but in a sweet, savoring-the-moment sort of way. Troy keeps a close eye on Abed’s reactions, judging when to adjust his speed, choosing the right places to kiss on the side of Abed’s neck, monitoring just when to slide his hand down to grab Abed’s cock so that he’ll clutch at Troy’s hips and swear under his breath, coming with quiet intensity. Troy follows shortly afterwards with Abed tonguing a spot just under his earlobe.

He rolls off of Abed, snuggling up against his side. Abed smiles contentedly at the ceiling.

“I would not have thought it,” Abed says. “There’s something better than making a movie.”

“Yes,” Troy says. “And that was only our first try.”


End file.
